


as the sun sets

by military_bluebells



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Just Brad being soft for Ray really, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sunsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: The right side of his face was lit with gold-orange light, his left side cast in shadows. It made his eyes look different colours, the right soft and warm, the left dark and bottomless; his nose seemed straighter and his lips fuller. Ray caught him watching and the side of his mouth quirked up.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	as the sun sets

**Author's Note:**

> Loose Lips Sink Ships: Brad/Ray - Alone with the sunset and a radio

I

The swell was strong, coming from the North-West at this time of year, forming big waves if a surfer was lucky and didn't mind the cold. Brad took a minute to just float on his board, staring out across the ocean. The sun was low, a burning orange in a clear sky, bands of lightening yellows and darkening blues radiating out. He looked across the inky blue-black water around him to the shoreline. He thought he could see where Ray was set up on the beach, reading on a towel in shorts and a sweatshirt because California didn’t have as cold winters as Missouri. 

He started to paddle back into the surf zone to catch one last wave. Ray wouldn't let it go if he missed the last sunset of the year. 

Luckily, the last wave was good, and Brad rode it easily, twisting and turning as it took him in shore. He might have showed off a little but that was for him to know. He slipped back down onto his stomach as the wave petered out, and paddled into the shallows. The beach was relatively empty, the only other people around at five pm on New Year’s Eve were surfers, most of which were making their way in before the sun went down. He picked up his board and walked up the beach to Ray, picking up the soft music coming from the mini white radio sitting next to him.

He’d slipped a beanie on since Brad'd been gone but his head was still buried in a book, his bare feet burrowing into the sand. If someone had told Brad that Ray was a bookworm in the first week he’d met him, he would have laughed. Now, it was the sad reality that he’d had put up another shelf just hold them all. 

He stood his board in the sand next to the towel Ray was sitting on before sitting down and grabbing his towel. He flicked Ray’s ear to get his attention. Ray jerked and then grinned, shutting his book and switching the radio off. Brad wasn’t sure if it irritated him that Ray never used bookmarks. 

“Sup homes. How was the water? Did you freeze your balls off?” 

Brad snorted and unzipped the top of his wetsuit, slipping the wet material off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it pool around his waist. He reached into the picnic basket he’d borrowed from his mother to grav his water bottle. He glanced to the side and smirked to himself when he caught Ray staring. Ray noticed and grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Brad grinned back and took a sip from the bottle. 

The light was beginning to fade so he leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out to dry. Ray shuffled around, putting his book away and stretching out next to him. They watched the sun hover over the horizon in silence. Something bumped against his hand and Brad grinned to himself, linking his fingers with Ray’s. The sky turned a darker orange and then red, bright as the sun slipped below the dark line of the horizon. The dark blues swept over their head, pursuing the red down until there was only faint yellow left. The temperature dropped quickly as the sun disappeared. A chill went through Brad, but they would be going back to the car soon, so he didn’t bother with putting a t-shirt on. 

The hand under his twitched and Brad rolled his eyes, “Ray, are you capable of sitting still for more than two minutes?” 

Ray huffed next him, “That was at least three, Brad.” Brad grinned and glanced around. They were twenty-eight miles from Oceanside at Trestles Beach, and the only people left were a group of teenagers who seemed to be starting a bonfire a hundred feet to their right. He cased the area one last time before leaning across to kiss Ray’s cheek. He pulled back and watched Ray blink at him with shocked awe. 

“Come on, we’ve got to be at Eric’s for nine.” 

“It’s like quarter past five and it only takes half an hour to get back to Oceanside.” 

Brad hummed and stood, rolling his shoulders, before saying off hand, “The sooner we leave, the more time we have to fill at home.” 

  


II

Brad joined Ray under the netting that they’d set up outside of the Humvee at precisely six pm. The civilian radio Ray had bought with him was sat on his Kevlar, tuned to pick up the BBC. The six o’clock headlines started just as Brad settled in front of Ray, mirroring his crossed legs. They sat in silence as they listened for new intel, clues to whether they would be crossing the border tomorrow and what might be waiting for them if they did. 

_“…cruise missiles fired by U.S. ships and guided bombs dropped by stealth planes struck targets in downtown Baghdad in what American officials describe as an attempt to decapitate the Iraqi leadership before the war begins.”_

As the newscaster droned on Brad watched Ray. It had been a busy day, getting pizza, packing their shit and moving out from Camp Mathilda. Ray was now his driver since no one else seemed to be able to control their Humvee for shit. 

_“Meanwhile, a quarter of a million American and British-led troops are said to be massed on the Iraq-Kuwait border amid claims that many Iraqi soldiers are ready to defect."_

Brad thought he looked tired, his chin tucked into his scarf and his brown eyes focused on the ground between them. The burns on his face had scabbed over, the patches on his temple and forehead red and inflamed, but the worst was the patch running along his left cheek and up to the bridge of his nose. It was unnerving close to his eye. Brad looked to the side and didn’t consider what could've happen: it was useless to consider the could have beens. 

_“In the States, the U.S. Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld has denied report that negotiations are taking place for a cease fire. He said the only topic for discussion with Saddam Hussein was unconditional surrender.”_

“We kicked the hornet’s nest.” Brad said, looking at Ray until his doe-like brown eyes looked back at him. “Now we better kill all the fucking hornets.” He waited patiently and was rewarded: Ray rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement. Now that his face wasn’t as solemn, Brad took the opportunity under the guise of listening the news to admire how the setting sun looked on Ray. 

The right side of his face was lit with gold-orange light, his left side cast in shadows. It made his eyes look different colours, the right soft and warm, the left dark and bottomless; his nose seemed straighter and his lips fuller. Ray caught him watching and the side of his mouth tipped up. Garza and Trombley, and the Reporter, were still in the Humvee and could easily see if Brad leaned forward so he didn’t. It didn’t stop him from imagining how one side of Ray’s lips would be warmer, how he’d have to cup Ray’s jaw not his cheek, how Ray’s eyes would flicker shut as they always did. 

“Hey, Brad?” 

“Yes, Ray.” 

Ray smiled softly for a second before his mouth curled into a grin, “Kiss me goodnight?” 

Brad swallowed, licking along his lip before replying, “Not on your life Person.” Ray grinned anyway. 

  


III

Brad waited on the edge of the field that had held the cluster-fuck of a football game that afternoon. He'd left Ray to his own devices after Lilley’s video, let him irritate Trombley and mess around with Walt. In that time, he'd taken Ray's radio - which he was sure to notice - and a sleeping bag from the Humvee, set up in a quiet part of the field, tuned into a radio station that was playing good music, and watched the sun slowly float towards the horizon. 

Ray found him soon enough, just as the bottom of the sun was beginning to touch the horizon. He didn’t speak, just flopped onto the sleeping bag, leaving a hair-width of space between their legs. Brad shuffled, spreading his legs enough that his thigh touched Ray’s knee. It was strangely comforting to watch the sky turn the exact same colours as California's did in summertime. When half of the sun had disappeared, he turned to look at Ray. 

The burns on his face had almost disappeared into his tan during the day but in the growing twilight he could see them, along with the growing bruises from Rudy’s fists. Brad clenched his jaw as he thought back to seeing it, seeing Rudy holding Ray’s fragile neck between thighs that everyone knew could kill. He’d grabbed his gun without thinking and it had taken a pointed look from Poke for him to realise he’d had it at all. He’d watched Ray leave with tears in his dull eyes while knowing that he couldn’t follow; it had clawed at him as the minutes dragged on, as he willed Ray to come back whole. The colours on Ray’s face turned from orange-red to purple-blue before he turned to look back at him, the radio playing some British pop song Brad didn’t know. His eyes were black with bags dragging them down, the angle of his jaw and cheekbones sharp even though they’d been back on three meals a day for a fortnight. Ray always lost weight faster than he gained it. 

“Are you-?” Brad asked, swallowing around the dry feeling in his throat. 

The side of Ray’s mouth quirked, “Better now than before.” Brad searched Ray’s eyes for the real answer and nodded when he found it in the curve of his eyebrows. 

“Did you make up with Rudy?” 

“Yep, he even kissed my booboos.” Ray waggled his eyebrows. Brad nodded stiffly and turned back to the sunset. Ray sighed, “Chill Iceman, no territory has been invaded.” 

The corner of Brad’s mouth twitched without his permission, but the fading light would cover him. Even so, Ray’s knee bumped into his thigh purposefully as he stretched out his legs and pointedly put his hand next to Brad’s on the grass. Brad shuffled and their fingers touched. He could hear the sound of cheering from the main area, a dozen men’s voices rising up into the quiet before another dozen booed back. The burning trash fires spat embers into the twilight as the sun disappeared completely, taking the light but not the heat. Brad linked his pinkie finger with Ray's and pushed away the urge to kiss him. There would be plenty of time for it when they got home. 

  


IV

The Missouri summer was different kind of heat to Iraq. In Iraq, Brad’s throat would quickly dry out and his sweat would evaporate straight off his skin, the strength of the sun burning any skin it could find. In Missouri, the humidity didn’t dry out his throat, or burn his skin since he had access to appropriate protection here, but his sweat lingered on his brow, the sides of his neck and his chest and lower back, making his skin clammy and wet. 

Ray had driven them out to a lake after dropping his mom at the dinner she worked at for the lunch shift. They’d said hello to the other staff and Ray had been laden with food when he’d mentioned they were going to be out past dinnertime. Brad licked some of the sauce off his fingers as he took another bite of one of the indecently large chicken sandwiches they’d been given. 

“This is why people in the Mid-West are fat.” Ray groaned as he flopped back against the trailer floor. His hair was still damp from swimming and he hadn’t bother to put his t-shirt back on, tucking it into the band of his jeans instead so he lay shirtless and stretched out like a cat in the sun. Brad snorted but didn’t rush to reply. Ray’s family were probably the best cooks Brad had ever had the pleasure to eaten from, so he savoured every mouthful. He was sure he’d put on several pounds in the last two days alone. 

“How you managed not to be a part of a childhood obesity epidemic, I do not know.” Brad said when he’d finished his sandwich. He reclined back against the bags they brought and stretched his legs out onto the opened tailgate. 

The sun was beginning to set and from where they were parked, they had a perfect view. Ray started to move, and Brad rose an eyebrow as he sat up and climbed over Brad’s legs, forcing them apart so he could fit in between them. Brad huffed a laugh, but when Ray leaned back against him, he wrapped his arms low around Ray’s waist and pressing his cheek against the soft, cold strands of his hair as Ray settled his head against his left collarbone. Anywhere else he would have pushed Ray over and teased him but in the middle of nowhere, Missouri it was easy to let the lines between friends and something else blur. Ray’s bare feet brushed Brad’s ankles and his skin was warm under Brad’s hands and against Brad’s stomach where he hadn’t bother to button his shirt. 

The sky cycled through its colours - yellow, orange, red, purple, blue - broken only by thin clouds, the lake’s surface mirroring it almost perfectly. They’d left the truck radio on, tuned to some country rock station, so the strum of a lone guitar and a crooned male voice filled the air. Brad had relent only because it was Ray’s mom’s truck. Thin fingers thread between his and squeezed; Brad smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the top of Ray’s head as the sun dipped low, disappearing bit by bit behind the treeline. Without the sun he felt colder but the warm humidity from afternoon still lingered in the air so he was content to sit for a while longer. It was only when goosebumps started to appear on Ray’s arms, that Brad let go of his hand to grab the blanket Mrs Person had given him with a conspiring smile. It was big enough for him to wrap it around his shoulders and then around Ray, warm red tartan fleece. 

“Can we stay for the stars?” Ray asked quietly when the sun was completely gone. 

“Sure.” Brad replied, shuffling back so when Ray could see the sky without cricking his neck. He tightened his hold around him and took a deep breath, ready to spend however long Ray wanted looking at the stars in the now dark, cloudless sky. 

  


V

He made his way down to the beach with a tray of fish and chips that the Royal Marines he was training with insisted were the best in the country. Westward Ho! was one of the weirdest names for a beach he’d heard but it was beautiful, a long stretch of sand going for as far as the eye could see, soft under his feet when he took his flip-flops off. The sea around England was darker than California – colder and saltier – and as the sun began to set over its waters the warmth disappeared quicker than he was used to. 

He found a spot where the sand was dry and sat down, settling his tray in his lap and swiping a fry through the ketchup. As he ate, he opened his backpack and took out the white radio he’d brought with him. It had a stupid bumper sticker on the back – _I’ve got a Marine and I’m not afraid to use him_ – and was scratched from strong Middle Eastern sandstorms. He turned it on and tuned it, setting it beside him as the strum of a guitar started. 

As Brad burrowed his feet in the sand, taking a bite out of the battered fish, he started to compose a response to the emails that had been sitting in his inbox this morning. It would have to start with a stern reminder that night-time was for sleeping, not for filling his inbox with pointless rants about weed-smoking college students and play by plays of how he made them cry in debates. He would remind Ray to do the laundry and not to mess with his bike and tell him about the British slang he’d been subjected to, which would welcome another horde of rambling emails. He smiled, planning the exact insult he'd open with. 

The sun burned brighter and darker as it descended behind the waves, drawing the yellows and oranges out of the sky, dark blue filling the void left between the numerous clouds. Around five thousand miles away, the sun wouldn’t be setting for another couple of hours, but it didn’t matter. He may be alone on this island, surrounded by accents even worse than Ray’s and slang that was almost as bad, but there was excitement and new challenges, new skills to be learnt, new men to work alongside. None of them were as skilled with a radio or an engine but with a working email connection, competency and amusement were never too far away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also happens to be my 50th fic on AO3 so yay!


End file.
